Take my heart

Chapter XXI

Sometimes he wonders why he lets Ash into his house at all.

"You read the texts, right?"

"Um. Sorry?"

This is, without a doubt, one of those times.

"Are you trying to make me confess my crimes?" they say, brushing a hand on their forehead and getting green paint on it. "Fine, yes, I made Caesar give his phone to Ali so I could interrogate her about her feelings for you. I had my suspicions and they were proven true when she admitted to liking you. I then told her to let it go because it would never work, and I don't wanna rub it in that I was right but well. We all know what happened."

Connor's brain chooses that exact moment to operate on the slowest of engines, so it takes him a full ten seconds to process everything Ash just said. They... they what? Oh god. They did what?

The weight of Caesar's stare somewhere over his left brow anchors him to reality. Connor forces himself to work through the confusion.

"Oh, right. I'm- I'm not mad, really."

When Caesar stops looking at him, his thoughts become a mess once more. Ash's words get mixed with those damn texts, and then a few painful memories of the past weeks add themselves into the chaos. It's slowly falling on him, little by little. 'I might be falling for him' and 'is that wrong?' and 'maybe?'— that was Ali. 'Give it up', 'you're only gonna get hurt'. Those were meant for Ali. Ash never implied that he could hurt Caesar, that the boy needed a break from him.

"But were you, when you found out?"

Somewhere a few feet away, Caesar browses his phone, though he's keeping an ear on the conversation. His presence might be the only thing keeping Connor from fainting.

"Ah... no, not really," he says, looking anywhere but at the siblings. "Though I guess that wasn't very nice of you."

His voice comes out incredibly calm, for all the screaming going on in his head. If it gets any louder, he's afraid Caesar might be able to hear the echoes.

The texts were Ali and Ash. Meaning Ali was the one to admit he liked him—not Caesar. So nowhere, ever, was it actually implied that- that Caesar had feelings for him. That was never a part of the conversation. It explains why he didn't pick up the signs—they weren't there, just like Caesar didn't notice he liked Ali, because he never did.

Oh god.

A foot taps his shin, Caesar must have sensed some of his distress, though he's still looking at his phone screen. Connor hums in affirmation, despite not being okay at all. He can't have this conversation with Caesar, for god's sake. What would he say?

'No, yeah, I only thought you felt something for me, and I did everything to stop that, to the point of getting in a relationship with someone else, and then thinking maybe I should just fall in love with you too. Except now I'm finding out it was never you who liked me, so I created this whole mess for nothing, and now everything's weird, and- are you sure you don't like me?'

With the uncontrollable shaking of his hands, Connor doesn't get to finish any more work. Late at night, he paces back and forth in his room, growing restlessness that might drive him insane, worse because there's no reason for him to feel like this. He skips dinner, knowing he won't be able to get any food past the knot in his throat.

Dammit. Why is he reacting like this? It's not such a big deal. It's good that Caesar doesn't...

A soft knock on his door wrecks his train of thought.

"Arun and I are about to watch..." his mother starts when Connor opens the door, but stops upon getting a good look at him. "Are you okay?"

Connor opens and closes his mouth, unable to utter a sound; settles for shrugging, stepping back and dropping on his bed. His mother hesitates for a second before walking into the room, concern written on her features. He can only stand a brief glance at her. Heat creeps up his neck, and before she can ask he's spilling the truth.

"I got it all wrong," he chokes out, lifting a hand to rub the burning off his eyes. "I- It's- the texts, it wasn't... it was never... All this time I thought..." His breath grows unsteadier and it gets even harder to form the words. "I don't understand..."

"Honey, breathe," his mother says, sitting next to him and carding her fingers through his hair. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. Breathe for me. Take your time, yeah?"

Connor shakes his head forcefully. He tugs at his sweater with frantic hands, feeling suffocated and trapped in his own skin. The softness in his mother's eyes doesn't exactly help him keep everything down. His sight goes blurry and he can't feel the tears on his itching skin, but his fingers find them there.

"It wasn't Caesar," he rushes, and his voice wavers at the end. "He doesn't... He never..." Everything in him begs him not to voice the thought, but he swallows, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and forces himself to make it real. "Caesar doesn't like me and I..."

The words scald their way through his throat. More and more tears are coming, no matter how much he tries to wipe them away; they curl around his fingertips and hang from his eyelids. A weird kind of void seems to be growing in his chest as the minutes go by. It's such a heavy, unnerving feeling, and he can't figure out what part of the situation is causing it. It could be the fact that he's wasted so much energy on solving a problem that was never there to begin with. It could be the fear that maybe he doesn't know Caesar so well.

"I should be relieved!" he cries, swatting his mom's hand away. "It- it means... nothing has to change between us. It fixes everything! Then why... why do I feel like this? Why can't I stop crying?"

"Oh, honey..."

She pulls him down against her chest, holds his head with a hand and rubs his back with the other, pressing a kiss on his hair. His mother's warmth is the last breath needed to tip the house of cards—it teeters for a fraction of a second, then comes stumbling down and spreading everywhere. Connor breaks down and lets her hold him, lets her hushed words tangle with his muffled sobs, and he still doesn't understand why he's crying.

Nothing has to change between them because Caesar doesn't like him like that and it's good, it's great news! Wasn't that his biggest concern? It's gone now. They can go back to normal, he can stop worrying; he can lean into Caesar's touch without worrying he might be getting the wrong idea and he can... he can...

Why does it feel like he's lost something? What could he have possibly lost? Everything is right here, his family and his friends and his life, and it will stay like that and that's fine. It's fine, until it isn't, because he's fallen off the damn tightrope, fallen from far too high, and he definitely broke something, hidden so deep behind his ribs that he can't even tell what it is.

Caesar doesn't feel that way for him. He doesn't. He doesn't. He doesn't.